The Words We Say
by fever revenge
Summary: Bulma's murdered, Vejita's losing it, and Goku's unearthed feelings are beginning to emerge, as one detective begins to root out the mystery that surrounds it all.
1. Introduction

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Introduction

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Disclaimer: I'm not Akira. I think that says enough. I'm simply using his characters as muses in my own stories. 

Warnings: Violence, sexual situations, coarse language, dark themes, angst, some drug use, and your usual batch of adult language/situation. This is definitely not a kid fic, so unless you have a mature mind, I suggest you skip this one.

Author's Notes: This fic is definitely a weird one. It may be a little hard to follow, as I've been watching a lot of David Lynch and following after that. This plot is loosely (and I mean loosely) based on the television show Twin Peaks. Haven't seen it? Go rent it. Now. You won't regret it. I wanted to stray from your run of the mill fiction stories on here, so I hope you aren't disappointed. 

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to email me.

Enjoy…


	2. Prolouge - Putting On The Damage

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Prologue

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"And this is all you know, sir?"

"Yes, goddammit, now if you don't mind I'd like to be alone!"

Vejita slid back in his seat, his figure slumping into the chair frame as various officers walked throughout the kitchen. Through his own blurred vision, he watched them cautiously move about his house, making sure they didn't disrupt a thing in his home. He bit his lower lip as he watched one man gently hold a portrait of Bulma in his hand, a gloved finger running down it's slightly faded gold frame. A new rush of tears threatened the edge of eyes, stinging through the tips of his lashes. He turned his head to avoid anymore emotion trauma, and allowed the flow of tears to trickle slowly down the flesh of his cheeks. He didn't understand how so much could have slipped through his fingers in such a flash of time. One moment, she was there, beside him in the steady comfort of their bed. He had fallen asleep to the sight her chest lift and fall, gradual, as she breathed in her sleep. The next morning, her body a chaotic mess on the living floor, her lips as blue as her hair and her body paled, like a crushed pearl floating along a muddle of blood. His first response the sight of his one, his only mate, dead before his feet, was simply to drop to the ground. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't understand how something like this could have happened while he lye dormant in his sleep. And now, with the police searching and filing through his home, he was forced to hold some-sort of composure, as they photographed his wife and questioned him. Vejita had experienced much death in his life, most the result of his own hands, but none seemed to have scarred him so deeply. As the crew finished their work within his home, they removed Bulma's lifeless body and began to exit the home. He slouched in his chair, still going through the thoughts in his head, when a well-dressed man approached him quietly. He appeared different from the other officers, and Vejita made a note of this mentally, as the man stood before him.

"Mr. Briefs, I presume?"

"Hmph. Your presumption of the obvious is correct. What do you want?" 

"I'm Special Agent Tennyson. I'm here to investigate the murder of your wife. I will be staying in town for the next few weeks, and will be stopping around here quite often. I thought you should know this."

"…Yeah. Well, just don't get in my way. And you damn well better find out who did this."

"We will, sir. No need to worry."

"I don't believe I'll be the one worrying…"

And with that, Vejita left his spot in the chair and drug himself up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Tennyson's eyes followed the brunette man's shaken figure as he left. He called out to Vejita, as he left his field of vision.

"I'm going to leave my number here. If you think of anything, call me."

No response. Just as he expected. Tennyson pulled his coat on as he left the house. A steady curtain of rain fell to the earth, as if it were magnifying the emotion that floated from Vejita's soul. Vejita sat with his fingers pressed against the window as he watched the last car leave the driveway. He closed his eyes, and silently allowed a race of tears to flow down his face. He fell back into bed, pulling the sheets around him, and shut the world away as he slipped into a deep sleep…


	3. Chapter 1 - Dreams

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Chapter One – Dreams 

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"It's December 1st, approximately ten-thirty five at night. I just arrived at my hotel after visiting the home of the victim."

Tennyson's voice trailed off into the recorder as he slowly removed his coat, dropping it on to the baize bed. He walked around the room, his eyes moving over every corner and bit of space around him. The walls bumped out as they were made of logs, and a cabin-esc theme followed through out the lodging. The floor was wooden and slick, freshly washed and shined to perfection. Various pictures hung on the walls, all of which were typical paintings for the surrounding – one of a pair of deer in a forest, another of a sailboat floating along a calm lakeside, and the last a picture of a young boy chopping wood beside his father. A large deer head held against a mantle was positioned above the bed, which was decorated in pale white sheets and an off-green cotton blanket. A baize railing trailed around the front and end of the bed, and held it slightly above the floor. Tennyson breathed in, pausing as if he were collecting information from the air itself, and then finally exhaled. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the recorder back up a few inches from his lips.

"The victim has been taken to the hospital, where an autopsy will be performed. The apparent cause of death is murder, though how the murder was conducted – " he paused, swallowing a hard lump in his throat, "is unknown. The victim's body was found in her own home, in the middle of the living room, at approximately seven p.m. Her clothes were on her body, through it seems apparent they were taken off some time during the…attack, as her nightgown is placed on backwards and undergarments are not fully on."

He paused again, going back through the day in his own mind.

"The victim was discovered by her husband, named Vejita Briefs, who was in the house during the time of the attack. He was apparently sleeping, though how he could have slept through such a brutal attack is certainly disturbing. Especially if he were sleeping beside her that night…" Tennyson glanced out the window as the rainfall began to increase, causing the pine trees outside to sway and twitch in the most vicious manner, "The victim's husband seems to be quite hostile and angry, and especially defensive about himself, and his wife. While a certain level of this is expected, he seemed to be especially angry. This is a distinct factor in my mind. A few days from now, I intend on interviewing him, once all this calamity has settled."

Tennyson looked down at the ground, his eyes motioning back and forth as he collected his final thoughts. He sighed.

"On a personal note -- while I've experienced many murder's throughout my career in the bureau, something about this particular murder seems different. How, in a town like this, while sleeping in her own bed, next to her own husband, could a woman be so viciously killed and left dead in her own home? It seems like something much deeper and much darker is a work here, beneath this little town, and I'm set to find it out."

Tennyson sighed, and clicked the recorder off. He laid back in the bed, his head resting against the large feather pillow. He dropped his recorder onto the small shelf beside his bed, and reached for a cigarette and lighter. Flipping the light switch off, he pulled himself half under the covers and rested the cigarette between his lips. He lit it, taking a puff, and setting the lighter back in its original place. Puffing his cigarette in the dark, Tennyson watched the rain fall outside his window, and pondered the events of the day.

"Yes…something is definitely off in this town."

* * *

Through the sheets which choked and covered him in sweat, Vejita twisted and fought in his sleep. His dreams were unusually vivid and stirring, and every aspect slowly haunted him as he caught himself deeper and deeper in the abyss of his mind…

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Vejita sat in a burgundy couch with his wrists bound together with twine which was wrapped so tightly together that his skin was beginning to bruise and cut, and his mouth gagged with a white towel. He looked around the room, set up like a game show stage, with its flashing lights and red-and-yellow walls. Two chairs, identical to the couch he was seated in, paralleled his own position. Sweat beaded down his forehead, not due to the fact that the room was terribly stuffy and warm, but rather on the fact that nervousness clawed at his mind. He was terrified beyond belief. At first, there was no one in the room. He was alone, though he could hear his own thoughts aloud in the room, as if it projected his thoughts into words to echo and haunt him. Then, suddenly, he heard a click, and someone entered. 

Vejita's head jerked to the side as he watched two figures approach. His eyes widened as the shapes formed into familiar faces. ' Kakkarot ! And . . . B – Bulma?! ' Vejita thought, panicked, as the words echoed through the room. Tears swelled in his eyes, and Vejita felt so shocked that he barely noticed as they flowed heavily down his cheeks, soaking his gag. Goku and Bulma sat down into the chairs across from him. Goku sat with an erect back and stiffened posture, as if something was pulling him up, and had a small smile on his face; while Bulma, with her skin and lips in perfect pigmentation, sat with a slight slouch and a lopsided grin, as she appeared many times while with Vejita. His vision darted back and forth over them, barely able to comprehend the sight before him. The two simply stared at him for what seemed like hours, until finally Goku's lips moved.

" os atijev, evah uoy derugif tuo ruoy elttil yretsym tey?" he said, with a choppy and incomprehensible voice. Vejita raised an eyebrow, not understanding a word the taller saiyan had uttered. Goku lifted two figures before his lips and a cigarette materialized between his lips. It lit itself, with a quick blue flame, and Goku slowly sucked on it. He pulled it from his lips, and blew out a delicate twist of smoke, which spun in the air before him. He blinked, and looked questioningly at Vejita. Vejita's face contorted in extreme confusion, and he looked to Bulma. She her grin widened and the top sliver of her teeth were exposed as she met his gaze. His lip quivered under the gag as his thoughts finally collected themselves.

' Bul…Bulma? ', echoed his mind.

" No…not quite. I look like her though, don't you think?" 

"Bulma" titled her head and ran two fingers through her shimmering blue locks. Vejita felt himself choking up at the sound of her voice.

' What do you mean? Aren't…You look exactly like…'

" atijev, ( Vejita )", Goku said softly. For some reason now, Vejita was aware of what he was saying. The thick air between them seemed to translate for him, " i wonk d'uoy eb detseretni ni eht sdrac i tnaw ot yal tuo rof uoy ( I know you'd be interested in the cards I want to lay out for you)." His backwards voice sent shivers through his flesh, as it seemed to stab through the air as a demonic force. Vejita swallowed hard, and tensed up as his felt his wrists begin to bleed. In his nervous state, he had inadvertently started rubbing them against the twine, and the grinding of the two forces tore away at his skin.

' What are you talking about? What's happening here?! ' His thoughts began to race and tumble as he soon felt a sting of anger course through him.

"Look through the glass and see her jewelry shine," whispered "Bulma", as she giggled, "it's not her favorite pair, though". And with that, she stood up and slowly left. Vejita eyes widened as she walked away. ' Come back!' Vejita's thoughts yelled, though this time not a single word echoed in the room. Goku watched his eyes, and smirked.

" eht sdrow ew tnaw ot erahs eht tsom oot netfo teg tsol ni ruo nwo seotorucesni, he? 

( The words we want to share the most too often get lost in our own insecurities, eh?)" Goku said. 

The words floated through Vejita's mind until his eyes snapped open and brought him back to reality. His chest heaved, as his breathing was heavy from the intense dream, and he felt clogged under the netting of sheets. He yanked the maze of cloth from himself, and shivered at the feeling of the cool night air against his bare skin. It crawled along his skin, turning his sweat ice cold, and leaving him in an uncomfortable state. He swallowed, and regained some posture as he pushed himself against the wall behind him. He looked at his wrists, and noted their clean, healthy state. It gave him a slight comfort, and reassured him that the dream was _only_ a dream. Though, as he thought back on it, he couldn't shake the strange feelings which stirred beneath his skin. The memory of Bulma and Goku's strange manner only frightened him, and he turned his thoughts to something else. Slowly, he grew tired, and managed to fall back into sleep. He didn't dream the rest of the night.


End file.
